Airholen stretches as he exited
the Pandarian farmhouse. The smells of an active farm fills his nostrils. The
pigs, chicken and yak meander about eating. The dog sat at the base of the
steps watching over them and the cat was sitting on an old stump cleaning himself. He loved the rustic living that he found out
here on the Pandarian continent. And getting away from the crystal powered ark
was what drove him out into the world and away from his people.
Panterra purred at his side. She
was his constant companion. Her spotted white fur was soft to the touch as his
brushed along his tail. She also seemed to prefer this place over most of the
place his people, the Draenei, could be found.
Walking down the stairs, Airholen surveyed the farm and started to walk its
perimeter. He didn’t fear that any creatures were damaging his fence line
because the farm was on the outskirts of Halfhill. He wondered back around the
house.
The building sits up on stilts.
There was a stairs that took it up to the low circular doorway. The thatched roof was fresh and yellow. The
interior was simple one room affair with cooking fire, bed and desk with
chair. It was sufficient for his needs,
and didn’t have that hard feel of the stone, metal and crystal of Exodar. The
wood grains and vegetable fiber carpets and bedding.
This home and its isolation it
provides from the bustle of world really was what he valued the most. There was nothing else that compares to this
calmness this place provides. He was home, and that was all that mattered.
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